


A New York Bartender (Definitely Doesn’t Wear Prada)

by AstroFighter



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Modern Era, Romance, Slow Burn, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2020-09-26 08:13:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20386516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroFighter/pseuds/AstroFighter
Summary: Andy was making another martini, for some big name, yet again. They all blurred together, he was from ‘Rolling Stone’, she was from ‘Vogue’, they were all from somewhere. Andy was some no name that’d freelanced for both magazines on a few occasions. Sometimes, when she made the drink just right, and the night winded down, she’d give out her card.It worked rather well. But not well enough. She was still on the other side of the bar, after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**A New York Bartender (Definitely Doesn’t Wear Prada)**

**Chapter 1:**

Andy was making another martini, for some big name, yet again. They all blurred together, he was from ‘Rolling Stone’, she was from ‘Vogue’, they were all from somewhere. Andy was some no name that’d freelanced for both magazines on a few occasions. Sometimes, when she made the drink just right, and the night winded down, she’d give out her card.

It worked rather well. But not well enough. She was still on the other side of the bar, after all. But she’d been doing this for two years now. Her degree was over with, she was officially getting published, despite it paying only a third of what she could actually live off.

Still, small steps. Better than when she’d started. Where she’d lived off her boyfriends...ex-boyfriend...meagre earnings. He’d got a better job, she was a ‘dreamer’, it had fallen apart when he’d decided to move to Brooklyn.

Andy was reminiscing, barely focusing on the cocktail she’d just ‘whipped out’, when Christian Thompson approached. His smile was all teeth, and his eyes shined. He was handsome as all get out, and a dear friend.

He leaned over, “I’d like a beer.”

Andy rolled her eyes. “Again? When will you be more adventurous?”

He pressed himself against the counter, so that he basically lying on the thing, just so his lips met her ear. “When you take me with a strap-on.”

Andy flicked his ear. “Maybe next time, but you’re buying it.”

“You’re cruel, you know that.” He mumbled, rubbing the offended ear with the palm of his hand. The smile still shining. “I already have, and if you’re free later?”

“Can’t,” Andy sighed, disappointed. “I got to work the scene, I haven’t published anything in two weeks.”

He paused. “I know someone that needs a book review. They’re a smaller magazine, but the pay is good, and the editor owes me one.”

Andy reached for his hand. Squeezing. “I, that’d be great, do you have their email?”

“Better than that, here’s their card, they’ll hook you up.” His eyes were warm, in a way that you only looked at a friend...or close fuck buddy...accomplice...partner in crime?

He’d gotten her that first break, replied to her card, after she’d spent months hoping. And Nate, the ex, had been jealous. It didn’t mean anything, until it did, but never like that. Still not like that. Not that she didn’t love him, in that morning after with eggs sort of way.

“I owe you.” She meant it.

He shrugged, “No you don’t. We just do each other favours, it’s business.”

“No,” Andy corrected, “it’s you being awesome.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, just don’t forget me when you’re rich and famous.”

Andy couldn’t help the giggle. Shit. “Never...but what was your name again?”

“Ow, now that really hurt.” His hand was over his heart, as he bend backwards just a bit, as if shot.

Andy bit lip, stifling her laughter. Christian went off to talking to more ‘important’ people, but not before sending her the image of the strap-on, she stared at it on her phone. It was big and red, well, if that didn’t just fit his ego perfectly. She shook her head, and pulled out her card, it was ‘networking’ time.

…**.**

It didn’t take long for the night to settle down, and people to start making their way to the ‘after-after’ party. Whatever that meant. It was three in the morning, and Andy had work in the morning. She was also a barista. Truly moving up in the world.

It was on her way to the bathroom that she heard sniffling, when she rounded the corner...she found Miranda Priestly leaning over a sink...in an outfit that could’ve paid for half of her years rent. A black form fitting dress, a plumb fur coat, and heels from some expensive Italian brand.

It was then Miranda looked up, her face tear stained, glasses tucked neatly in one hand, that she saw Andy with her mouth to the floor, stuck in the doorway.

“What, may I ask, gives me the pleasure of bumping into you? Did you forget how to speak when you decided to stumble in unannounced?”

If it had been a few years ago, Andy would’ve hightailed it out of there. But this would most likely never happen again, so she smiled.

“No, I mean I did. But, I...I’d like to give you my card. I’ve written for Runaway before, my name is Andrea Sachs. I’ve done work for all sorts of magazines and newspapers in the past few years, including Vogue, Cosmopolitan, and well. If you’d just look at my work, I think you’d like what you see.”

That was it, her great pitch, well, she didn’t exactly plan on it being so rough. Or said this close to a toilet. But here she was.

Miranda undid her glasses, and unceremoniously put them on. She glanced Andy up and down. Before snorting. “You’ve written for Runaway? Is that a joke.”

Andrea felt her ears go red. So she was wearing Target black jeans, a white shirt from H&M and a leather jacket from Zara she’d gotten on sale...but she looked nice, presentable even. Far better than when she had gone for her interview at Runaway. A job she’d wanted...well, that regret was forgotten. 

“I’m friends with Elaine Clarke, one of your editors, she calls me whenever your magazine needs something last minute. I’ve interviewed designers, and done long-form biographies for you. If you want to see my work, she should be able to provide it for you.”

With that, Andy turned and left. Opportunity be damned, it wasn’t worth the humiliation.

Miranda watched her go, and felt her lip twitch. She reached for her phone, dialling a number. “Emily, call Elaine for me in the morning, tell her I want her to gather everything she has on Andrea Sachs; and everything she’s ever written for Runaway on my desk by eight.” With that, she hung up, and walked to the nearest elevator.

…**.**

Andrea texted Christian when she got to her apartment.

_A: Miranda Priestly is a fucking bitch. _

**C: You didn’t know? **

Andy threw off her slacks, and the rest of her clothes before starting the shower. Tomorrow was going to be murder. She glanced at her phone quickly, smiling.

_A: I did, but I thought it was all a rumour, I mean, don’t you know what they say about you? _

**C: Yes, that I’m charming, and handsome. I’m great in bed. **

When she left the shower, drying herself off, she looked at the phone again. Groaning in amusement.

_A: That you’ll sleep with anything with a pulse. _

**C: That’s not true. I just like pretty women, and beautiful men. So sue me. **

Andy laughed, getting ready for bed.

_ A: I don’t understand how half our conversations are about sex. _

**C: But you love it.**

_ A: I know, gotta sleep now. Love you, sort of. _

**C: Haha. Sort of love you too. **

…**.**

Miranda read Andrea’s work, and it was adequate. Her own personal style might have been a struggle, but she was a decent interviewer. The biographies weren’t terrible, and the girl had been writing for Runway for at least the past year. She was surprised she hadn’t met her before yesterday.

Elaine was dressed head to toe in designer labels. A fiery red dress, and classic black heels. She passed through the glass door, for this sudden meeting. The blonde sauntered in, looking over her thin rimmed glasses, before seating herself before the great Priestly.

Miranda glanced up. “Tell me, who is Andrea Sachs?”

Elaine stared at her, gaping for a split second, before shutting her mouth. “One of our freelancers. She’s good at what she does, reliable, always meets a deadline. Easy to edit. A model writer.”

Miranda took out one of the articles. “This one is to be published next issue.”

Elaine frowned. “That was going to be cut, to make way for...”

“It will be in the next issue.” Miranda put it back down, before turning to her computer screen. “Who introduced her to you?”

“Christian Thompson--” Elaine began, before Miranda held up her hand.

“That is all.”

Elaine smiled, tightly. “Of course.” Before standing and leaving. When she got to the safety of her own desk, she pulled out her phone.

**E: Don’t know what you did Andy, but you’re in the next issue. **

_A: I thought I was being taken out? _

**E: Not according to Priestly. **

_A: What?!?!?!?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: **

Andy was typing away at her computer. Reviewing a music album for a less known but respected music magazine. This was her third article for them in two months. She must have done something right. More work means they like you, and a paycheck was always welcome.

Her phone buzzed.

**C: I was wondering if you’d go out with me tomorrow? **

**A: Can’t. Got a deadline to hit tomorrow for two articles. **

**C: We if doesn’t rain, it pours. C-mon. Let’s go. I hear the Dragon-Lady is there. And I know you haven’t seen Elaine for awhile. What’s the issue? **

**A: I don’t want to see the ‘The Devil’ again. Frankly. She’s a bitch. **

**C: Only means she’d be a great lay. **

**A: Stop thinking with your dick. **

**C: Make me. **

**A: No. **

**C: I miss you. I haven’t cracked shit with you for two weeks. **

It was true, she’d been working her butt off. Writing all day, bartending most nights. It’d been busy, and thus, she ordered pizza online, and wasn’t leaving her home. Other than work, which also meant more professional mingling. It was a vicious cycle.

**A: You make a fair point. I’ll just write for an extra two hours. Who needs sleep anyway??? **

**C: You’re overdoing it. Sleep in. Email them now. We can go to The Raging Bull. Stupid name, it’s a new ** **Manhattan ** **cocktail bar. Meet me there. It’ll be an informal drink sesh. And there’s a who’s who fashion ‘party’. Very informal. But I got the down low that the Dragon will be there. Apparently she promised someone, due to some kind of favour. Either way, we have to go! **

**A: Okay Mr. Enthusiasm. You’ve convinced me. But I don’t own anything that doesn’t scream ‘I’m an outsider’. **

**C: It’s all about the confidence. Wear that leather jacket, with the jeans and knee boots. You’ll look great. **

**A: How do you even remember my wardrobe? **

**C: It’s a gift. And a curse. **

**A: Oh, ha-ha. **

Andy couldn’t help her giggle, and had the sudden urge to roll her eyes. Great, the Ice-Queen. Miranda Priestly. Why now? Only Christian with his perfect teeth and hair would get her there. Just that alone. It was a wonder how he ever convinced her. But he always did. Stupid, teeth.

….

Andy woke up at 11am. That was very late for her. She went for a run, first time in two weeks. Had a shower. Watched a dated movie. Before grabbing all the clothes on Christian’s list. Picking her favourite navy turtleneck. She looked passable. He was right. Damn.

When she got to the bar it was 8pm. Early, but there was Elaine, with her favourite martini. Andy waltz right up to her, by the bar. Ready to order a cocktail.

“I’ve missed you.” Elaine did look miffed. “Christian has been moping without you.”

Andy couldn’t help the over dramatic pause. “He’s fine without me. We both know it. He just likes to exaggerate. It’s what he does.”

She pulled a face. “Andy, he loves you. Don’t ignore the puppy, it’s bad for them.”

Andy sighed. “You’re just annoyed because now you have to fuck him more.”

“Well I love him too.”

“Elaine, you’re making me feel like we’re in a sex cult.” Andy couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah well, we’ve only fucked twice. That’s a lame cult. I’m missing out.”

Andy almost spat up her drink. “You’re going to make me regret my drink. Aren’t you?”

“No, I’m just saying a cat likes to be petted.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. How’s work anyway?” Any excuse to get off that topic.

Elaine looked thoughtful for a moment. “Boring, and far too busy. Thanks for doing that interview last minute, or I’d be dead. Our staff writer just had to be ‘sick’. I know for a fact she too hungover.”

Andy took a sip of her cocktail. It was really good. “Why did you cover for her?”

“Her mother is the head of marketing, last thing I need is that bitch on me, because of her precious little daughter.” Elaine ate the olive before settling the toothpick back in the drink.

“Fair enough. I was happy to do it. Just surprised. Runway is probably my second biggest regular check.”

Elaine paused. “Who provides you a better one?”

Andy held up her drink. “Would you believe bartending. Great tips, especially when I smile, and mix some exotic drink.”

Elaine grinned, “You are very good. I haven’t seen you at the bar Old Fashioned in a week.”

“Too many deadlines. My boss understands.”

“I wish mine did.” Elaine was a little petulant went grumpy.

When Christian walked in, he mingled a little, before plopping right next to Andy.

“What I miss?”

Andy didn’t look up, from what was now a coffee martini. “Elaine’s bad flirting, and complaints at your cock.”

Christian laughed. “She wasn’t last night.”

Elaine's face couldn’t have been redder.

It was a lot easier for Andy to network without being behind the bar. People recognised her name. She was a known ‘quantity’.

And when Miranda walked in, sitting with the more senior editors and writers in the room, the red sea was parting.

“It was her idea to invite you.”

Andy turned to Elaine, she looked dead serious. “Really?”

“Yeah, she thought anyone working for Runway, for as long as you have, should be invited to one of our ‘get together’. Technically an open invitation event, but only people who know come here. How do you think Christian had even known?”

Andy found that hard to believe. “So why did you invite him?”

“Because,” she shrugged. “I like him, you, and didn’t want to be alone with her. Power with numbers.”

Well. Fair enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this story will eventually become more femslash, but it'll take some time. Let me know what you think, I wanted to be a bit unique this time around, and do something in this fandom I haven't seen before. 
> 
> Please comment if you like it! :)


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